Engineering Solution

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Mighty Jacksparrow is an Earth-based sub-intergalactic blogger who enjoys writing and in the same time entertaining his ever-amusing will-kill-to-read fans with sensationally hilarious and at times dramatic musings. This blog offers endless ideas and results; they might be charming most of the times but could be offending in some others. Therefore, it is always noble to remind that if you enjoy the pieces, carry on reading, but if they upset you, do quietly leave like the evening breeze and not like exploding diarrhea, which exactly what you will look like if you ever lose it on me. Enjoy! :D

Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Marlboro Man Part 3

When she woke up, it was raining outside.

The storm seemed to have landed, judging by the heavy rain outside. She removed the fringe that covered a part of her face. She sat up and fixed the comfortable feather-filled pillow and leaned her back against it. It was all dark inside the room, except some dim light from a colonial-style bed lamp that shone an orange shade of light across the room. Her wrist watch showed the time as exactly 2.00am in the morning, which means that she had been sleeping for almost 5 hours since she last being awake. She would have wanted to stay awake but soon after Stacy fed her up with two curiously-looking pills sometime before she went to sleep, she did it like a baby. This somehow made her to conclude that the curiously-looking pills could be sedative, controversially used on her to keep her at bay.

Well, maybe, she said to herself.

The corridor next to the room was empty, and she could tell that Stacy - the only attending nurse she had seen so far in the infirmary - was sleeping somewhere outside, based on the somewhat clearly-audible snore that she was listening to, probably the only sound that filled the empty, silent night like the one she was having.

She turned her face to her right side of the bed where the bed table stood motionlessly. From the help of the orange-colored light from the bed lamp, she could clearly see three sticks of roses lying on the table, but no vase to be found.

Oh yes, I broke the vase. She remembered it now.

She took one of the roses and took a closer look at it. She smelt the tantalizing scent right away, so she took a long breath in from her nose, enjoying the balm. She felt good from doing this for a while, until she was disturbed by the memories of the incident that happened some hours back, leading to the roses to be having no vase to hold them in.

Where is that bastard anyway, she asked herself. What an irresponsible doctor. A smoking doctor, to make it sound more irresponsible.

She put away the rose for a while from her nose and started to smell the air. No trace of the usual aroma she could easily recognize coming from burning tobacco. She concluded that he must not be around. Strangely enough, from knowing his absence she felt something poked her in the heart. She felt hurt, out of a sudden.

Why did all men run away from me? Why did not one of them stay?

She felt the tremors that started to build in her broken heart. She felt her shoulders shaking as she tried her hardest to hold back the tears that had then accumulated by her tear ducts as she explored her feelings deeper and deeper. Slowly her feelings got to her again, so saddening that she again felt the loneliness came closing into her like the coldest of wind blanketing around her skin. She felt cold out of a sudden from this experience, and quickly she remembered how comfortable it was to be in the arms of someone that very moment. She hugged herself with her arms around her body and covered her mouth with one of her palms, and she put her head down, her shoulder-length wavy hair fell along covering her face from the surrounding, creating somewhat a barrier from everything.

And from the inside of this barrier, she cried her heart out.

And there she sat for some time crying by herself, enveloped in the dark room, during that one particularly stormy cold night in the island.

* * *

"Morning, sugar."

She opened her eyes slowly upon hearing this. As her eyes focused, she saw Stacy standing by her bed with a tray of what appeared to be a decent plate of butter omelet, two pieces of toast, two frankfurters, a cup of hot coffee and a glass of chilled orange juice. Stacy smiled at her, showing those lovely dimples on her face. She looked cheerful this morning, despite the not-so-lovely treatment she received from the only patient in the infirmary the night before.

"Morning..." she tried to read the name on the name-tag, "...Stacy."

"Hello, Adeline."

Ah crap, she said to herself. Now everyone who reads this story will know my name.

Stacy signaled her to move aside for a bit before placing the tray on the bed. Stacy then sat next to it.

"How are you today?" Stacy asked while handing her a cup of coffee while she sat up.

"Better, I think so," she replied slowly as she took the coffee from the stunningly-looking nurse. "Thank you."

"Good," Stacy said with a calming voice. "Maybe we can discharge you today."

Adeline nodded slowly before she sipped on the hot cup of coffee. And then it occurred to her.

"Wait," said Adeline. "I am supposed to leave the island today. What time is it now?"

"Ten-thirty, I guess. Why?"

"Ten-thirty?"

Stacy gave her the straight face, looked at her digital wrist watch and said, "Yep it is ten-thirty."

Adeline put down the coffee back onto the tray. She looked worried. This concerned Stacy, who then asked why was she looking so worried.

"My flight was supposed to be at eight in the morning." Adeline stared at the baby-blue blanket as she said that.

Stacy laughed upon hearing this. She covered her mouth as she did. Adeline looked at her in a total disbelief. How could she laughed at me? she asked herself. She steamed up right away and quickly saw the opportunity to slap Stacy as an intermediate, arguably legit but a totally possible reaction to such unbelievably offensive act Stacy just did. But she decided not to but to just take the most diplomatic way by just being quiet even though she died a little inside.

Stacy finally stopped laughing. She took a close look at her, who was then started to again having teardrops to accumulate, making her eyes all teary. Such a crybaby.

"Aw," Stacy said to her, smiling, and continued, "come here you."

The next thing she knew was that she sank into Stacy's hug. She felt the warmth of love quite right away, and to this she sobbed again, one part because she was miserable enough from being left behind by the flight and also for the fact that somebody finally hugged her, kissing away her loneliness. She tasted the sweetest of honey, by having quite a company, that particular morning. Stacy patted her back gently and let her cried for a while before letting her go.

"Look at you," Stacy said as she fixed Adeline's hair. "What a mess."

"Why am I always being unfortunate."

"No you're not."

"What am I supposed to do here? The next flight would only operate next week. "

"Honey," Stacy said in a motherly-voice, though both of them shared the same year of birth. "You can play sick until next week."

"Very funny," Adeline replied in quite a flat note. "What for? Even the doctor did not come and see me."

Stacy looked at her for a while.

"Honey," she said, "he did come to take a look at you last night. Who did you think that placed the roses on the table there if it wasn't him?"

Adeline looked at the table before turning to Stacy back again. "But I thought those roses were from the vase I broke yesterday?"

"Those ones were orange in color, silly," replied Stacy. "Now those," she pointed to the roses using her lips, "those are reds."

Adeline took a look again at the roses. How could she missed this color detail? A long, awkward moment of silence occurred. Stacy stood up after some time, and went to fix the curtain to let sunshine to light up the room a little.

"Wait, wait," Adeline said to her. "How long was he here? How come did I not notice this?"

"Oh quite a while, darling," said Stacy without even looking at her but to pay full attention to the crumples she had just found on the curtain. "An hour, maybe. You were sleeping."

"Uh huh? I suppose he was checking on my recovery?"

"Not entirely," replied Stacy, still busy with the curtain. "He did. Took him three seconds or less. And the he just sat on the stool there looking at you sleeping."